


Cathartic

by gooberzayn



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Anxiety Disorder, Harry Styles/perrie Edwards kinda, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Other, Panic Attacks, Past Perrie Edwards/Zayn Malik, Therapy, Zayn-centric, perrie and zayn break up, robin williams mention
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-27
Updated: 2015-02-14
Packaged: 2018-02-27 05:05:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 16,083
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2680214
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gooberzayn/pseuds/gooberzayn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This was just supposed to be a cathartic thing for me to make me feel better. It contains details of Zayn characterized as having GAD (generalized anxiety disorder) so if anything like that will trigger you I urge you not to read it. There's also mention of vomiting, and shaking, and panic attacks. Not sure if there will be another chapter or anything it's basically just whether or not I feel like it/need to write another one. If anyone does read this though I hope they like it and that it helps them.</p><p>Also anything related to becoming diagnosed with a disorder (so therapists, and disposition quizzes) are also included. If those will trigger you do not read this. There is a therapist in this story who is a big part of it, and also one who has a smaller role.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> If there are typos I'm sorry I'm not very concerned with them, because again this is just something for me to feel better.

“Zayn, come back to me.” she held the sides of his face until his eyes focused and blinked back at her. “I can’t read your mind, you know that.”

He was laying down on the couch and she sat up next to him and let his head fall back down onto the cushion.

“Isn’t that what the degree is for?” she gave him a sarcastic smile and looked forward. They were silent for a minute. “and anyway you know what I’m going to say.” he finished

Zayn was sick, uncomfortably so, and consciously suppressing tiny trembles that probably no one would pick up on but her anyway.

“Do you think it could be from anything else?” she asked

Zayn let out a loud laugh “I wish.”

She sighed and laid down next to him, letting him curl softly around her and tuck her head under his chin.

“I don’t want to go on medication.”

She waited a while “Why?”

“It’ll be get. I’m already the brown one, the muslim one, the one who smokes weed and people already think I do drugs. This will just make it worse.”

“Maybe, but you’ll be better.”

“It’s not that simple, Nel.”

“No, I know. Meds means somethings really wrong, right?”

“We’re not even sure that they’ll help.”

“They helped me.”

Zayn sighed. “If people know it’ll just be one more thing in my mentions they’re yelling at me about.”

“With all that considered, I don’t think you have much of a choice. If you keep getting sick they’re going to make you.”

“You could just tell them they won’t work.”

“You know I’d never do that. My job is to make sure you’re okay. I won’t lie about that.” He started to shake a little, and she nudged closer to him. “It’ll be okay. Worst comes to worst and you’re on the meds and you’re not even worried about the tabloids anymore. You’re not worrying as much anymore, and you’re not sick anymore. Two birds, one stone.”

He let out another deep breath “I’ll think about it.”

she kissed his shoulder “That’s all I’m asking for right now... but at the very least we’ve got to get these panic attacks under control.”

Zayn’s mind flashed back to the first time he’d ever had one.

* * *

 

His eyes watered, his heart felt like it was going to beat out of his chest, and all he could think was _i’m dying i’m dying i’m dying i’m dying._ Perrie couldn’t help much past holding his hand and telling him he’d be alright. He’d calmed down soon after, and didn’t think it would be a problem anymore. Then, he started getting sick. At first he was just uncomfortable, a chest pain here and there, random stabbing feelings in his stomach, every doctor telling him nothing was really wrong. When he couldn’t travel to America during the promo for their latest album their management had enough.

“What is this test for?” He said as he sat at some random computer with automated questions for him to answer like Are you in distress right now? or Have you tried to commit suicide in the past 30 days? Zayn didn’t know how to answer them; they all felt too extreme for him. “I think this is a bit much.”

“Just answer it as truthfully as possible.” A lady in a red suit said to him and as she sat just a few feet away, and he did.

He heard them all discussing his results just a few minutes later. _Aren’t these things supposed to be confidential?_ he thought, and his foot vibrated as he waited for what they had to tell him, but they didn’t say anything. They just left. Him, his management, altogether. Them all on their phones doing what Zayn thought was making more appointments, booking more shrinks for him to see, getting someone to figure out what was wrong with him. _They couldn’t have found anything from the test. Nothing was on there about me._

They brought in Nel, Penelope, and he remembered being angry.

“Why the fuck do I need a babysitter?”

“It’s for your health, Zayn. Just try it out for a while, and if you don’t like it we can get rid of her.”

They hadn’t told him anything but apparently she was getting her own hotel room for every city they visited. She didn’t talk to any of the other boys. She looked young. She didn’t smile much, but she’d be on tour with them. Zayn didn’t like it. He didn’t want someone poking around his brain to figure out what was wrong with him.

“I’m not going to pour out my fucking heart to you.” It was their first session.

“Hostile.” She poured two glasses of tea and sat them on the nightstand next to the bed in her hotel room.

“No, not hostile, and I don’t want any bloody tea, either.”

“Hostile.” she repeated, and picked up the tea to take a sip. “Do you want to sit down on the bed?” she asked.

Zayn grumbled, and moved closer, but he sat in a chair next to the bed, not on the bed with her. They weren’t going to be friends.

“What’s your name?”

“Penelope... Penelope Whittman.”

“They brought you here to figure out why I keep getting sick?”

“Oh,” she took a sip of tea “We know why you’re getting sick. And why you keep feeling like you’re going to die... and why you can’t sleep” she stopped and tilted her head at him “and why you’re shaking a little right now.”

“Then why don’t I know?”

“Mr. Malik this is my first time ever speaking to you. Any information that was withheld from you up until this point is the fault of your team. They probably thought it’d be best not to tell you, though.”

“Do they think I’m that messed up.”

She sat her tea down and scooted to the edge of the bed closer to him and shook her head. “No. You’re not messed up you’re fine. You’re no messed up than me.”

“So what they brought me a playmate so that I don’t spread to the other boys?”

“Hostile.” she said again and backed away from him a little. “No. They brought me here, because I have a degree, and they think I can help you.”

“WIth what?”

“You have, what we’re going to classify for now as Generalized Anxiety Disorder. That’s why you keep getting sick. That’s why you keep having panic attacks. And they didn’t tell me this probably because they didn’t pick up on it, but that’s why you keep shaking so much... I used to shake a lot, too.”

Zayn stormed out and back into his own hotel room. _I don’t have anxiety I have nothing to worry about_ he thought. _I’m probably just sick with some rare disease they have found yet. and what does she know anyway she looks younger than me._ He didn’t talk to Penelope again until their next session.

“How old are you?” Zayn asked her, sitting in his chair.

“I’m a year older than you.”

Zayn laughed “So this really is a playdate.”

“It’s not.”

“What do you even know you’re younger than my sister and she wouldn’t be able to figure me out in a million years.”

“I’m not here to figure you out. I’m here to try to help you, Zayn.”

“How can you help me when you’re sick, too? I looked up GAD from last time I was here there is no cure, and you’re nothing like me. So either you’re lying to get all chummy with me or they sent a sick person to help a sick person which makes no sense.”

she winced at him “Zayn, if you want to talk to someone who is generations removed from you, and doesn’t know what you’re going through, then fire me. I don’t have to be here.”

and so he did. He got her fired and asked them to bring in someone else. Partially in hopes that it’d take weeks and they could see that he wasn’t sick anymore and didn’t need someone to talk to, but it didn’t.

The guy they brought in was old and white with a balding crown and a weird smile. He kept telling Zayn to “just calm down” and for a while that’s what Zayn would repeat to himself everyday. He repeated it before shows when his chest would get tight. He repeated it when he trembled every night before bed. He repeated it when tears would burn his face checking his mentions in September. He repeated it after throwing up whenever Perrie brought up the wedding details. He repeated it when he broke down over letting a fan kiss him on the cheek because what if they were sick and he caught something. He repeated it, and he repeated it until he realized that this man had no idea what he was talking about.

“Bring the girl back.” Zayn muttered to his team one day when he was frozen after a show.

and they did. In three days she was back on the tour with them, and Zayn was back in her room.

“I thought someone else would’ve gotten you by now.”  
“It’s hard for a black woman to find a job in this economy, you know.”

He looked at her “The old guy just kept telling me to calm down.”

she laughed “That’s the problem, though, isn’t it? You can’t. You try and you try and you try, but you can’t....”

“Why? What’s wrong with me?” he plopped down on the bed next to her.

“Nothing's wrong with you, Zayn. You just have a bit of trouble with all the background noise in your head. It happens to a lot of us.”

“I’m not going to bear my soul to you and have some magical transformation evolution” he waved his hands in the air “or whatever.”

“I’m not here to make you talk about every detail of your life I’m here to help you feel better, but some of that is going to have to be you telling me what’s worrying you so much.”

“No.”

“Zayn, if you want to get better-”

“No. You’ll tell me team, and I don’t want them knowing everything about me they already keep secrets from me about myself.”

“You’re my patient. I won’t tell them anything. All you have to do is tell them you want to keep seeing me, and I won’t go anywhere. Other than that we have a confidentiality agreement just like any other patient-doctor relationship. I can’t tell anyone what you tell me.”

“Please don’t call me your patient.”

“Okay.”

“I’m not going to be your patient. I don’t like that word... and you’re not old like a doctor, and the other guy kept calling me his patient so please don’t call me that.”

“Then I’ll just be the person you talk to about whatever is making you anxious. Like a stuffed animal or something. Whatever you want.”

“You’re not a stuffed animal.”

“I’m trying to make you feel comfortable.”

“How would you being a stuffed animal make me feel comfortable?”

“Stuffed animals comfort people. I have stuffed animals I love them.”

“You’re not a stuffed animal.” Zayn said flatly

* * *

**  
  
**

“What are you thinking about now, Zayn?” she asked him, he was pulling her closer to him.

“The first time we met.”

“You hated me.” she laughed

“I know. That was stupid.”

“It was.”

“You know I used to throw up like once every two weeks? Even when I wasn’t sick... sometimes more.”

“Yes, and they're happy about your progress, but they also see that you’re still sick, and they know medication can help. They can get that knowledge from any other therapist.”

“I’m getting better.” Zayn said quietly, starting to shake a little more.

“You’ve plateaued, and I am trying my best, but you have. You’re still regularly having panic attacks and you’re sick right now, and you don’t shake as much, but it’s still too much.”

“This isn’t helping me feel better.”

She took a deep breath. “I know, Zayn. I know. I’m sorry. You don’t have to get better steadily, or quickly. Progress takes time, but I just... they might make you, and I don’t want you to have to anything you don’t want to... especially if you’re not fully prepared for it.”

“But I am getting better.”

“You are. You’re doing so much better you got better faster than I ever could’ve.”

“But not fast enough, apparently....” Zayn let his fingers tap patterns into her back

“Don’t let them make you think you’re not doing good enough. They wanted you to get better in two weeks, a month, two months, but that’s not how this works, and you are doing so well. I’m sorry for saying you plateaued that was wrong.”

“No, I know what you meant. You don’t want them to force me to go on meds and you feel like the only way that’ll happen is if I accept it and just start them myself.”

“Yea, but you can’t do that if you’re not ready. I still shouldn’t have said it.”

Zayn was quiet for a long time. “Talking to you is like taking a break. It’s the only time that I have cut out to just discuss me. Talking to you calms me down, and when the tour is over you’re gonna have to go back to the States, Nel.”

“Is that what you think brought this on?”

He sighed. “Yea. I don’t want to talk to anybody else, and I can’t... get better before tour is over... I know it.”

“We will figure something out, okay? I am not supposed be another thing you’re worrying about. I’m supposed to be helping you feel better... and you don’t have to be 100% before tour is over, you know that.”

She sat up

“Yes, I do. I have to be better now or they’re gonna put me on meds and everything” he started shaking even more, and she laid back down next to him “is gonna get worse, Nel.”

“Zayn, look at me” and he tilted his head down “No one can make you do anything you don’t want to do.”

His eyes watered “but you know that’s not true, Nel.” his voice was cracking, she pushed her body up so that she seemed taller than him, laying down anyway, and leaned his head on her chest and felt tears dripping on her shirt. “I don’t want them to just replace you with a bottle of pills. I know you're stressed because you think you're not helping me anymore and you want me to be okay, but they think so too and I don't want them to just replace you and I don’t want you to be gone after tour, but you can’t stay in the UK with me, and I need to be around my family because they make me feel better and I miss them and-.”

“Zayn. I will not go anywhere until you feel better I promise.”

“You know that’s not fair. You don’t even like cold weather you can’t-”

“Zayn. Please. Take a deep breath... please.”

and he did

“Take another one.” and he did “It will be okay. I can come home with you, and then I can meet all the animals and see your Fiancee and everything will be fine I promise just let me worry about that, please?”

He nodded, trying to agree. He knew he’d still worry about it, but knowing that she was willing to come home with him made him feel much better and a lot less sick. He took a few more deep breaths. “Okay.” and they sat up

“Sorry for crying on you.”

“Wasn’t the first time. Probably won’t be the last. It’s okay I signed up for it.” she gently grabbed his face again. “It’s almost three in the morning, do you think you can get to bed now that you’ve gotten that off of your chest? If not you’re going to be tired you have a long day tomorrow. I can sit in here with you until you fall asleep if you want.”

He nodded weakly at her and sniffled. “Alright, go get into bed I’ll be sitting right over here if you need me.”

**and he got up and plopped into bed feeling a little lighter.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is like a break down chapter so if that is going to trigger you don't read it.

Zayn couldn’t move, and he was shaking and crying, and he knew that someone was watching him, but he couldn’t move. He was curled up in a ball on the edge of his bed chanting “i’m so stupid, i’m so stupid, i’m so stupid” over and over and over again, and he didn’t know why. It felt like some uncontrollable truth that his body was finally forcing him to face about himself. And he was crying, and he knew he was an absolute mess, but he couldn’t do anything but stay curled up and shake and cry some more and whisper “i’m so stupid” to himself on every exhale.

When he could sit up, he was still crying. He could still barely move. He looked around the room through tears until he felt Nel putting something over his nose. It took him a while to actually be able to blow it, but he did, and felt breath stagger from his mouth as she cleaned his face. He was glad she was there with him... and glad no one else was. She was calm and quiet and her face was soft, and he was a mess. There was no other way to put it other than that. He was a mess and he was stupid and he couldn’t calm down and he knew he’d be sick again soon. He got down from constant tears to tiny outbursts every few minutes, but was still shaking. He felt like an abandoned puppy, like he couldn’t take care of himself, like this was finally what his life had come to and he couldn’t do anything about it. He tried to move to wipe his own nose, because why should someone else do it for him? Why couldn’t he take care of himself, but he couldn’t move, and Nel put another sheet of facial tissue up to him and waited for him to blow. He felt pathetic. She rubbed his back slowly and that helped, steadied him, slowed him down a bit, and helped with the shaking a little.

When he was still, completely still and silent and wasn’t breathing hard Nel rubbed his cheek and said “You’re not stupid, Zayn” and he fell into her and started crying again. He was stupid. He was stupid, and incapable of movement and couldn’t take care of himself. He was stupid and unlikable, and unwanted. He was stupid, and couldn’t sing right, and why would anyone want him around. He was stupid, and he couldn’t do anything right and every time he tried to he just fucked up. He was stupid. He started his chanting again and little lower than before, he couldn’t control it, and he believed it, and even if Nel met every exhale of _i’m so stupid_ with a sweet _no you’re not_ he’d know she was lying. She was supposed to be making him feel better. It was her job to tell him he wasn’t stupid, because if he was ever going to get better he’d have to believe it. He’d have to believe the lie, and he couldn’t. He shut his eyes tight to try and repress a memory because then maybe he could feel better but he couldn’t. It just kept swirling in his head.

* * *

It wasn’t dramatic, and Zayn had seen it coming. Perrie didn’t feel the rush anymore, she didn’t have the butterflies, and that was apparent. He thought, though, that maybe it was because she was sad about the success of their group. That as soon as things turned around she would light back up, and everything would be okay. It wasn’t that. It was that she didn’t love him anymore, and he saw it. He knew it, he just thought that she would’ve told him. That the apathy in her voice when he finally asked her would dissipate, and he would feel like he somehow still mattered to her. That her meek “we can still be friends” would feel more like “I still want you in my life” than “I don’t care if you’re here or not” and it didn’t. In fact it felt more like “Please don’t feel bad about buying me this house and the media frenzy that’s gonna come after this.”

But it wasn’t that dramatic. Zayn let himself be sad, very sad, about it for about two weeks before he got back up and tried to date again. He’d put up with Perrie for months past what was probably acceptable, because he thought they’d get back to a place where she’d be excited about him holding her again, where he felt like she wanted him, and that time didn't come, and he still needed that. So, really why not start dating?

Other than the media was already citing reasons for their break up as him cheating, or doing drugs, or being a piss poor boyfriend so him going off with another girl so soon would only add fuel to that fire.

“If it’s going to make you feel better, then go ahead and do it. There’s nothing wrong with wanting to feel like you’re needed, Zayn. There’s nothing wrong with needing someone... or wanting them.” And sometimes Zayn loved talking to Nel, because he knew she’d only tell him to do things that made him happier. He smiled and hugged her and left her room and thought to himself that the next pretty girl he met he was going to give it a shot with.

And he did, and he did, and he did, and he did one more time.

“All of them just saw right through me. Every one. Here I am really trying to find someone and they don’t see me they see... someone else. Some fantasy. When the fantasy is ruined they don’t want me anymore... Perrie was the same way.” He had his knees pulled to his chest with his chin rested on top of them.

“Perrie loved you, Zayn.”

“For a moment.” he said somberly. “She’s fine. She moved on while we were still together she’s fine. I saw a tweet she made and she’s hanging with some guy and they’re happy and they’re fucking adorable.” and he was silent for a moment. “The media’s in a frenzy cause I can’t settle down...”

“You’re just trying to find somebody, Zayn. There’s nothing wrong with that.”

“But it’s not working. Why? Everyone agrees that my face is perfect. I’m rich, everyone says I’m talented, and everyone says I’m nice. Why doesn’t that translate into being able to find someone?”

“Sometimes it’s hard, Zayn. You’ve got to sift through a lot of people to find someone you connect with.”

“But it’s not that. I connect with them... they just don’t connect with me what am I doing wrong.”

“You’re not doing anything wrong, Zayn. You’re just eager right now, and you’re exhausted.”

He slumped down on the bed and turned over to his side. “I don’t like getting all excited because I like someone and then I find out they don’t care about me. It keeps happening, and I don’t know what to do. It’s like I keep picking the wrong people or I can only get people who just don’t care about me.”

Nel laid down next to him, and faced him. “You’re not going to find someone to replace Perrie that easily.”

“It’s that easy for everyone else.”

“It’s not.” but his eyes were off again, he was looking past her thinking about how he could find someone to him feel like he was still wanted... like he mattered to them.

“Hey.” she waved her hand in front of his face. “come back to me.”

And Zayn looked at her for a minute before he knew he was about to do something stupid. He knew it wasn’t going to work, he knew it was wrong, he knew it fuck everything up, but he leaned in and kissed Nel anyway, and she pushed him off and sat up quickly.

“Zayn, that’s not how this works.”

And he sat up next to her “Why not?”

“I am not here for that I’m here so that you have someone to talk to... so that you can feel better.”

“You do make me feel better.” Zayn grabbed her hand “And if this is how who cares I feel better I’m not sick anymore, and everything is fixed all because I have you.”

“Zayn.”  
“Nel, I know this is-”

“Zayn.” she looked like she was sad that she had to say it. That she knew it was going to hurt him, or set him back, and she didn’t want to do that. “No.”

“So, I’m just a job to you, huh?”

“You know that’s not true. But I am a professional, and we’re close, and we are friends, but that’s not a line that we can cross. If anything it’ll just make you feel worse.”

How would she know? How would she know it would make him feel worse when every time she was with him he felt better. When kissing her just now, no matter how stupid it felt was the closest thing to love he’d felt in months. How would she know at all?

“No... it won’t...”

“I know that you think that now, but listen. Anything, _anything_ can happen to two people. And you need me. People carve out spaces for people in their lives and when they’re gone they try to fill that space with something or someone else. I am not a space you can fill with a new me if something goes wrong with us.”

“You’re just patronizing me because you know you don’t want me, either.”

Penelope took a deep breath. “If you need to find someone, I support you, but I will not be that someone, and I can’t be. Whatever reasons you tie to that are your own, but I’m not here for romance, and I never have been.”

And he stormed out, because he knew it. He knew that’d be the outcome, and he didn’t know why he tried anyway. That’s the same thing he’d done with Perrie, right? He knew it wouldn’t work out, but he’d kept on trying. And he’d done it for a few girls in the past few weeks, and it hadn’t worked, but he still tried, right? And none of it ever worked nothing ever worked. And he knew it wasn’t going to work, but he’d tried anyway, and he hated it.

He sat on a chair in his room breathing hard and squeezing his hands together in a pulsing pattern. It wasn’t fair, and it didn’t make any sense and he couldn’t understand why when he was so willing to give himself to someone to do everything to make them happy, no one cared. No one wanted him. He didn’t understand why, and it was fair, and he was stupid, because he kept trying with people he knew it’d never work out with.

He heard a knock at his door, and Nel came in and she squatted down in front of him and held his face and he saw her mouthing words, but he wasn’t listening. He was crying, and he couldn’t hear her and didn’t want to, because he already knew what it was. He knew she didn’t want to be with him just like everyone else, and he knew she wouldn’t and he didn’t know why he tried. He went over to his bed and curled up, and started crying. He knew Nel felt bad, and he felt bad for making her feel bad, but he still felt bad for being so sorry and gross, and utterly unlikable. So repulsive that no one could fall for him, not even when he was such an eligible bachelor, not even when he was so good looking, not even when he was so caring, no one wanted him. He couldn’t make a lasting impression on anyone. And if not even Nel, who had seen him at his lowest, could care about him, then how could he ever show this to anyone? How could he ever really make a connection with someone and then tell them about this? How could anyone want to be with him when he was so needy, and so willing to do anything, and so afraid that if they saw him have a break down they’d leave him immediately?

That’s how it started. That’s how the crying started with Nel sitting over him, and him thoroughly emptying himself of all the feelings he’d had swirling around in his head.

* * *

“You’re not stupid, Zayn. You’re just lonely.”

“And desperate.”

“Sometimes we are. That’s okay.”

“Why don’t you want me?”

“That’s not what we are.”

“Why doesn’t Perrie love me anymore?”

“I don’t know, Zayn... but you two were together for a long time, and you’re not going to get over her that quickly.”

“I just want... someone.”

“And you’ll find someone, but while you’re alone it’s okay to be sad.”

“I was sad. I was sad about it for weeks I don’t want to be sad anymore.”

“And the more people you try to talk to the more people you’re going to have to be sad over losing.... no matter how short your time together was.”

He let out another staggered breath.

“I am stupid.”

“You’re not stupid, Zayn.”

 


	3. Chapter 3

Zayn could lay with her like this. Her body wrapped around him and pulling her close. He knew nothing could happen, but he could still enjoy this. With everyone constantly bringing up Perrie all around him in interviews and before interviews and fan tweets and everyone telling him everything he didn’t want to hear or discuss. He could just enjoy this. Nel was like a break, and she was constant, and she was steady, and he knew that he couldn’t do anything to get rid of her, and maybe he needed that. Maybe he needed someone who was okay with pushing past limits or boundaries. Maybe he needed someone who just let him be completely far gone and off the edge of a cliff and dying and sobbing and not willing to come back but still wouldn’t give up on him. Maybe he needed someone who would see him cocky and arrogant and lustful and then watch it all fall from his hands in just a few hours and still be there for him when it was all gone. Maybe he needed someone to still want him after he was being completely unbearable.

He felt tiny shooting pains in his tummy, but didn’t move. He just breathed in next to her. He wasn’t shaking. _I need to be like this all of the time_ he thought.

“If I could just bottle you up and carry you around I’d never be sick again.” he said.

“The goal is to have you feeling this calm even when I’m not with you.”

Zayn wasn’t sure if he wanted that. Maybe he didn’t want to be okay anymore.

“I’d rather just take you with me everywhere.”

He knew it was selfish. He didn’t care. Nel would deal with him being selfish because her number one priority was him, and even if it was only because this was her job, he needed that. He needed to be number one to someone.

Harry and Perrie (Zayn laughed at the irony of the rhyming names because Harry was annoying him with this support of Israel and Perrie had fallen completely out of love with him) had gone to hang out. They were friends, and she was still talking to Louis every once in a while, and Zayn was happy he hadn’t ruined their relationships, but he wished they’d all just take a break and let him get over this for a while. He couldn’t just bounce back from being in love with someone. So, being with Nel was like being on vacation.

But Nel was Nel and even though her main concern was him, she still had other things going on. He could be selfish during their time, because it was _his_ time, but he couldn’t be selfish outside of that.

She sighed. “Well I’m here for as long as you need me.”

* * *

Zayn decided to try to tell his mum about possibly going on medication, and she didn’t like it. “You just need to calm down, Zayn.” and he rolled his eyes, because yes, that’s what he was trying to do.

“Just think about it. I’m not too happy about it, either.” That was a lie. Now he was actually enjoying the idea of not having to worry all of the time, of not being sick all of the time, of not thinking he’s going to die all of the time. His mum was making it harder for him, though.

“What’s in them? What pills are they even talking about? What would they do?”

“We don’t know yet, mum. It’s just a thought to help me.”

“You know those people will do anything to you to get you to work as much as possible.”

“Yes, mum, but I can’t do anything at all. This isn’t normal they are trying to get me to work, but... I need me to work, too...”

“You work perfectly fine, Zayn. You just need some rest.”

“I’ve had rest, mum. I’ve been resting and resting so much. I... need a little more help.”

“You can’t believe everything those doctors tell you, Zayn. They’re working for your management, and you know they’re only interested in money.”

That was terrible for her to say. That only made him more nervous about sharing everything with Nel. It made him start to shake every time he saw her talking to someone from his team. It kept him up at night for hours after long concerts thinking about what they might know about him. Their next session he didn’t say anything. He didn’t tell her anything. He just said that he was feeling better, and kept a few shakes in, and kept breathing deeply.

He stayed that way for a while. Just not telling her anything, and watching Nel get sadder and sadder because she could feel him withdraw. She looked like him when he could feel Perrie slipping away.

* * *

 

 

“Can we just not bring her up for a minute? Like... can all of us as a team collectively agree to not say the name Perrie for at least a week?”

“Sure, Zayn.” Louis said softly. “Whatever you need, mate.” and Zayn was thankful. It quieted some of the noise in his head. It kept him from having to worry about whether or not he was going to cry, or yell or scream whenever they brought her up. It kept him from feeling a pang of pain in his chest every time he heard them speak about her fondly, when he knew the two of them could be talking, but shouldn’t. Not for him. It’d only be him trying to hold onto a dream of them that he knew would never happen, and he didn’t have time for it.

* * *

Sometimes when they were like this and his eyes were closed tight and he forgot Perrie’s scent, and wasn’t thinking about the very distinct textures of their hair he could pretend like Nel was her. He could go off into a fantasy world and imagine some out-there scenario where they’d get back together. Maybe she’d come visit Harry or Louis on tour and Zayn would come hang out with all of them and she’d see him and see how good he looked and they’d talk and she’d kiss him, and he could have her again. Maybe she would text him that she missed him one night when she was drunk and he’d text back come here, I’ll fly you out, I’ve been waiting for you for so long. Maybe she’d sneak a note to someone that she was thinking about him, and the sentiment would get back to him, and then he could talk to her and she would see that no, she didn’t fall out of love with him. Her feelings were just slightly repressed for some reason and that everything was okay, she could love him again.

That was all just a fantasy, though. Zayn knew it. They wouldn’t get back together. They wouldn’t ever get back together. She couldn’t love him, and no one else could, and no one else would. Having Nel made him feel better about that. Better about the fact that he was going to be alone forever. Like maybe if he had her he really didn’t need to actually be with someone.

* * *

No one brought up Perrie for a while and everyone was speaking on their tiptoes around him, and he wasn’t talking to Nel and Nel wasn’t happy about it.

He slumped down in the chair in her room when it was time for him to come and talk to her. She’d poured a glass of green tea for him and played with her phone while he idly kicked his feet and took tiny sips.

“That should help keep you from getting sick for a while, but it’s not a guarantee.”

 _Can’t keep me from getting sick when I’m the one that’s making me sick_. he thought “Thanks.” and he took a few more sips.

“Might help with the stomach pains, too. Green tea is good for digestion.”

“Thank you.” he was quick, and this was painful and strained and he missed her but he was too scared to tell her anything. He was too scared that she was going to tell everyone else all the things he didn’t want anyone to know. Things he didn’t even want her to know. About how he was afraid he might get taken into custody at every customs stop they made. About how he didn’t want to think about how awful the bullying he had to go through at school was. About how he didn’t want to look online or constantly be reminded that so many people hated him for things he couldn’t control. About how every time someone even mentioned the word religion he tensed up and his heart started racing.

But he’d told her some of that already, and she might’ve told them. He couldn’t have them knowing. He couldn’t have them thinking he was paranoid, or even less in control of his own thoughts than they knew he was. He couldn’t ruin One Direction just because he couldn’t keep it together, and he couldn’t create a rift among everyone just because he couldn’t handle a breakup or the pressure of being famous... or the pressure of being irrelevant in the future...

He heard her sigh and he knew that it was because she knew he wasn’t going to talk to her this time, and he let it go. She’d given up on him, too. He thought that this had probably been enough for her. She wasn’t stupid like him and didn’t stick around after people clearly didn’t care about her anymore. She let go, and stopped it from hurting.

He felt his chest get tight, and drank more tea.

“It’s good for your heart, too. No health worries.”

He left.

When he woke up the next morning on the nightstand next to his bed was a little box with card that just said _A Gift_ on it.

He opened it and it was a lego set. He fiddled with it all day until he got the whole thing looking like the picture on the box. He didn’t think about much else until he was done and it was time to go to sleep. He laid in his bed for hours thinking about all the shitty things in his life and wondering how they were ever going to not be shitty.

When he woke up the next day there was another one, a bigger one.

He picked it up, and stormed down the hall into Nel’s room, banging on the door. She opened it, looking a little annoyed.

“It’s 8am, Zayn. You shouldn’t even be awake this early.”

“I know you gave me the one from yesterday.”

“Oh, genius. You have excellent problem solving skills why don’t you go join scooby and the gang.”

“Were you just going to keep giving me these every day?”

“I hadn’t figured all of that out yet, actually.”

“I don’t need you to babysit me, or to try to keep me calm, or whatever you think you’re doing.”

“Zayn, I don’t know why you’re not talking to me anymore, and I can’t do anything about that, but you are going to hurt yourself if you keep holding whatever’s bothering you inside and just let it fester.”

“And you think legos will help me? Really? I’m not a fucking 8 year old you can’t just give me toys and fucking distract me.” he was yelling

“What do you want me to do?” and she was yelling back. “You’re not talking to me. What the fuck do you want me to do?”

“Leave me alone, maybe?”

she let out a staggered breath and lowered her voice. “I read somewhere online that when you went to Japan you stayed inside all day building a robot. That means that you were focusing on something. Which is good. Sometimes when I am very stressed out I do twists in my hair, they give me something to focus on and keep me calm. I don’t want you to get again, and you’ve been doing so well, and you’re gonna lose all of that progress if you don’t do something.”

Zayn left. He was making a habit of storming off on her. She didn’t follow him. The legos were back in his room the next morning. He took them into her hotel room and put them together silently. He left when they were done. They didn’t talk.

The next day there were more legos, he went into her room before the concert, and wasn’t finished before soundcheck, when the concert was done he went into her room and finished, telling her mundane details about what happened on stage, and falling asleep on her floor.

* * *

He had a dream of kids pushing him around. Of getting into trouble for causing a fight when the kids were trying to hit him. The principle yelling at him and him being small and not able to do anything. He woke up. Took a few deep breaths, and tried to forget it. These happened a lot. A childhood fear he couldn’t ever get away from. They were plaguing him more than ever lately.

Another dream, one of Perrie next to him happy and kissing him, and doting on him. He woke up. _Ouch._ He woke up. He woke up. He woke up. It wasn’t real. He woke up.

He remembered when he started shaking way before he started getting sick. Years before he started having panic attacks. Everything makes sense after you know what the cause is. Everything makes sense now. Everything makes sense.

* * *

He went into Nel’s room. She’d gotten him some weird advanced legos that weren’t legos but they were robotic and reminded him of the robot in Japan. _How much do they pay her?_  he thought. He didn’t ask. He was glad they were paying her enough to buy this. He’d feel terrible if this was costing her an entire paycheck.

They were talking more again and once he got silent. Too silent, too quiet.

“Why can’t you talk to me anymore, Zayn?”

_Because you’ll tell everyone else._

He was quiet, though, still.

She went over to him.

“Zayn, please?”

He kept putting the blocks together. She put her hand over his.

“Zayn.” her voice was low and sad “Zayn, please.”

He was quiet. He was scared. He started shaking. This was going to be it. This was when she was going to finally give up on him.

“Zayn, I need you just as much as you need me, and I need you to talk to me or else I’m not going to be okay.” her voice was cracking.

“I’m fine.” he replied

“Like hell you’re fine. If you were fine you wouldn’t be in my room every single day putting blocks together.” her voice was still strained. “I am so worried about you just talk to me.”

“I can’t, Nel. I can’t I can’t I can’t.” and he was crying to because he couldn’t, and he knew he needed to. He wanted to.

“Why?”

He pushed the toys to the side and collapsed in her arms repeating that he couldn’t, and he couldn’t, because he was too scared, because if he told her she would tell someone else, and he knew that she probably wouldn’t but he was too afraid that she would. He couldn’t trust her.

“Zayn” and her voice was better now. Like she was sniffling her tears away “please just tell me what’s wrong.”

“I can’t tell you I can’t tell you anything I can’t talk to anyone.”

And in that moment she seemed to understand. She resolved with just holding him, and letting him cling to her and press his body into her as far as he possibly could.

She let out a hard breath. “Well you don’t have to if you can’t right now, it’s okay.” he pulled her closer. He didn’t know if this was healthy. He didn’t know if it was okay. He didn’t know if he was supposed to need her this much, but he did, and it made him feel better to know that she needed him a little, too. Even if it was just in an “I want you to be okay” kind of way.

and they sat like that for a while, and Zayn only cried for a little while, because he knew he had her back, and he knew he hadn’t pushed her away, and he didn’t have to worry about not having her anymore.

“I want to, but I can’t. I’m sorry.”

He was sorry. Sorry she was wasting this time on him even though he couldn’t talk to her about it. He couldn’t talk to anyone. He couldn’t burden anyone else and even when it was her job he couldn’t tell her because she could tell someone else. Secrets never work.

“It’s okay.” she put her hand on his face and caressed his cheek.

“I can’t, Nel. I miss you, and I can’t even talk to you I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, Zayn.”

“I miss you.”

“I miss you, too. It’s okay.”

* * *

Everything makes sense when you know what the cause is. How could he combat anxiety, when talking about his anxiety, when the idea of letting anyone know what’s going on with him was messing him up so badly that he couldn’t even do it.

 _I'm going to get sicker and sicker every time I even have to think about it. I can't tell her._ he thought

_And everything makes sense when you know what the cause of it is, but that doesn’t mean the problem goes away._

* * *

“I want to try the meds, Nel... can you tell them that for me, please?” she nodded and he slumped down onto her bed and into her, and she held him tight and he closed his eyes and pretend like they were something. Like she was the one. Like she was Perrie. Like she was Nel. Like she wasn’t his therapist. Like he wasn’t fucked up. Like they were fucked up together, and it wasn’t just him. Like the way she needed him was the same way he needed her, even though it wasn’t.

“Can I just keep you?”

**“I’m here for you as long as you need me to be, Zayn.”**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know this might be the last chapter or the last chapter for a while. I'm not sure where any of this is really going.
> 
> Again, I'm sorry if there's any typos


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't plan on writing this chapter and I'm kinda of sorry if this turned into something that people don't really want it to but this is mainly for me so.
> 
> Like I've said in all the other chapters I'm sorry about the typos.

 

“Why do people act like it’s so hard to not be douchebags?”

“Are you being passive aggressive?”

Zayn was laying his head on Nel’s legs, facing the ceiling. He knew she knew he wasn’t being passive aggressive.

“No.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“No. I just want people to stop being shitty to me, and acting like what I’m asking for is so unbearably difficult.”

“What exactly are you asking for?”

“Just for them to not be shitty.”

* * *

The first time Liam brought it up Zayn wanted to cry, and he screamed, and he was adamant. “Don’t. Please.“ It shouldn’t have been hard at all.

Zayn’s face twitched.

_Bad nerves._

__

* * *

It’s not like he hadn’t been through hell and back since being introduced to the public stage. It’s not like he hadn’t endured the most pain and pressure of all of them since becoming famous. It’s not like he hadn’t had to deal with Louis’ racist best friend, and Perrie’s racist mom, and it’s not like making bonds with people didn’t make learning about how shitty they were or are didn’t fuck him up.

It’s not like he was asking for much.

_Just do better. Don’t do shit that would make me feel bad. Please. I’m a very sad child. Don’t make this any worse on me._ But no one seemed to care. Everyone has their own agendas and no one is interested in becoming better. Not for him, and not for anyone else.

When Zayn wasn’t with Nel he was shaking a lot.

_It’s not bad nerves._

* * *

“You don’t have bad nerves. You have anxiety, Zayn.”

He sighed as he sat cross-legged on the floor. “I know, but I’ve gotten much better. I don’t even shake when I’m with you anymore.” 

Nel smiled.

“That’s good that means I don’t make you anxious.” Her face was as big and glowing as he’d ever seen it and Zayn was glad, because he knew it meant he was getting a little better.

Not being anxious with Nel meant that he didn’t feel nervous about her, he was just withholding some information. Which she sensed, but he knew she was going to work with him. Nel wasn’t going to give up on him, and she cared about him, and that made him feel better about a lot of things.

* * *

Of course it was Liam first.

It had to be, right? It wouldn’t have happened any other way.

“Liam, please don’t bring up the whole religion thing. Please stop talking about Duck Dynasty around me. I understand that you love them, but they hate me, and I don’t want to hear about them.”

That should’ve been enough. That should’ve ended it, right? Liam was his friend, and Liam didn’t want to hurt him, and Liam would try to prevent that at all costs.

But Liam didn’t.

__

_How can someone be so aware, and be so sincere that they are sad that I’m hurting and they just don’t care._

But Zayn kept pushing and kept trying. Kept trying to let Liam know that he didn’t want to hear about it. That he didn’t like it. That they were fucked up, and that every time Liam mentioned it his chest got tight, and his eyes watered, and he felt like he was back in grade school being blamed for everything. Like he was being held at customs again. Like the white kids who made them move away were winning. Like he had to learn how to fight again.

* * *

Harry didn’t fucking get it, and Zayn knew he didn’t. He knew Harry wouldn’t get it when he came up to him all bounce-y and happy and smiling and trying to get him to smile after all of the Palestine shit happened. As if Harry was somehow exempt from perpetuating hate, and Zayn was somehow exempt from being part of the group he was perpetuating hate towards.

“Of course I fucking looked when I knew it’d piss me off.”

Zayn was livid and walking around the room, and Nel was sitting on her bed looking up at him listening.

“Why did I go back and look? What’s romantic? What is this?”

It was pretty obvious _to him_ that Harry and Perrie probably had something going on now, and that he was going to have to deal with it, and that he was going to have to smile, and pretend to not know anything.

“Perrie’s got shit taste, Zayn.”

“How can she feel nothing for me, and then want to be with him? Who is he what is this? Harry is completely oblivious to the feelings of other people. He didn’t even pay attention to her when they first met.”

“She’s got shit taste is all I have to say about it.”

“But why him and why not me?”

“Because she’s trash, Zayn.”

Harry didn’t fucking get it, and Perrie wasn’t going to be able to connect with him, and Harry had fucking ignored Perrie when they first met anyway, because he’s posh and stuck up and annoying as fuck. And it didn’t make sense, it didn’t make any sense, that these two people could magically just become a thing. A thing that Harry could somehow call romantic. A thing also, that Harry felt no need to tell him about and neither did Perrie. Because of course no one owed him anything. What did anyone owe him? What was he?

Harry just didn't fucking get it, and it honestly made Zayn want to wring his neck, and punch him in the face. It made him want to never even see Perrie again.

Harry didn’t get it. Harry would never get it. Harry was a white boy. He’d never get anything.

* * *

“Liam can you turn that down a little bit please?” Liam was watching Duck Dynasty backstage, and Zayn didn’t want to hear it. Liam ignored him, because Liam likes Duck Dynasty, and if it’s triggering Zayn who cares? That’s not Liam’s problem it’s Zayn’s. Zayn shouldn’t be so sensitive. And Zayn shouldn’t be so aggressive about wanting to not be triggered, either.

Zayn knew that this was what Liam was saying behind his back. He could sense it. Liam talked shit about everyone, because Liam was a crybaby. So, of course he’d talk shit about him, too.

“I fully understand that you love Duck Dynasty, but I need you to like cut this out when you’re around me because this is triggering me.” And Zayn knew that Liam knew what he was doing. He also knew that Liam didn’t care.

“My bad, man.”

It was hollow. Zayn knew it didn’t mean anything. Zayn knew he didn’t care, but he held on like he did with everyone else. Just like everyone else that Zayn kept having hope in, but they refuse to change because change is hard, and life is hard and if this helps me cope, why not?

_I can’t deal with this for much longer_

He didn’t have to. Liam stopped talking to him.

Zayn was sad

and relieved.

* * *

Harry didn’t get it. Harry didn’t get it. Harry didn’t get it, and Harry didn’t care. And Zayn was always angry with Harry. And Zayn needed Harry to calm down, and leave him alone, and stay away from Perrie, but it wasn’t going to happen.

* * *

“Niall’s cool.”

“It’s good to know you haven’t severed all ties to everyone in your band.” Zayn couldn’t see Nel’s face, but he was sure that she was smiling while he was cuddled under her. She didn’t want him to not have anyone.

“Niall tries to make me happy all the time, and is all positivity and sunshine... and sometimes I can talk to Niall. About stuff I can’t always talk to Louis about.”

“That’s good, too.” Nel snuggled him closer, and he knew that meant she was happy. Having people to talk to is always good. He could always talk to Nel, but he couldn’t tell her everything. He could never really talk to Louis. But sometimes, very small times, he could talk to Niall.

“He tries to be better. Niall cares about me.”

_Niall cares about me._

* * *

Perrie didn’t care about him, and Perrie wasn’t coming back. And he should’ve probably deleted her pictures out of his phone by now, but he couldn’t yet. Zayn didn’t know if that was stupid or normal or pathetic.

* * *

**  
  
**

Zayn had seen this for a while. He knew that whatever went on with Harry and Perrie before he fully came into the picture wasn’t much of his business. Perrie only seemed to get angry about it, and Harry never even brought it up. Harry only said nice things about her.

He saw quite easily that the moment he told Perrie that Harry was alone, in the midst of her already pulling away from him, she was going towards Harry. Zayn saw it. He wasn’t trying to be paranoid, but he saw it.

What could he do?

Really, what?

* * *

He felt pain in his temple. This was one of the scary things about anxiety. He didn’t know if this was a migraine or something that wasn’t related to anxiety. If it was, then when he got to the hospital they’d just tell him that nothing was really wrong. Just give him an aspirin and tell him to be on his way. But if he was sick he needed to go to the hospital. What if he had a tumor in his head, what if something was really wrong?

“If going to the hospital will make you feel better, then you should go. It’ll take down your anxiety.” Nel was calm

“No, it’s fine. It’s okay.” Zayn grabbed her hand. It was the middle of the night and he cuddled into her, because she made him feel calm. “I’m okay.”

He was okay. He wasn’t dead the next day. _Sometimes knowing the cause does help._

* * *

Losing Ant felt like losing someone he’d known forever. Like he could still go and talk to him if he needed to, but he also knew he shouldn’t.

Ant was just like Liam to a degree. He didn’t want to change to help Zayn feel more comfortable.

“Stop bringing up that shit around me, okay?” Zayn did not ask nicely. Fuck asking nicely. He shouldn’t have to ask nicely for people to stop being shitty.

That was Ant’s last straw. Being accomodating was the last straw.

He’d known Ant longer.

It hurt

But he could be okay.

* * *

“People keep leaving.”

“People leave. That doesn’t mean anything’s wrong with you, Zayn.”

“But am I asking for a lot, Nel? Is asking for people to stop doing something that’s messing with me really that bad?”

“No, Zayn. People shouldn’t be shitty to you.”

But Zayn was always going to hold on to people. He knew he would. He’d hold on to them until they changed or got tired of him asking them to change, and let him go.

* * *

 

Harry made a joke at Zayn. It wasn't meant to be mean, and Harry had no idea what he was even saying, really. He was just trying to be funny.

"Yes, you're going to go up to them and you're gonna say that and they're gonna say you're mentally ill." Harry was laughing

"They're not wrong." Zayn replied like he wasn't really paying attention, like he wasn't really upset, like he maybe could've been joking when he said they weren't wrong.

 

Harry didn't get. Harry was never going to get it.

 

* * *

 

It seemed like people were obsessed with religion. His religion. Like everywhere he went people had something to say about it. He couldn’t scroll through twitter without someone saying something about it. He couldn’t talk to his friends without them letting it slip. He couldn’t ask people to stop, because no one cared.

All he could do was have shitty dreams of how his life got exponentially worse after 9/11, and cry, and breathe deeply whenever it was brought up. And someone always brought it up. Every single day. He couldn’t get away from it, because people liked to bring it up, and people didn’t care.

“It’s not fair that this is everywhere.” Zayn was sitting at the edge of Nel’s bed.

“It’s not. And we can’t control our triggers, but we can minimize their influence in our lives. We can cut out people who refuse to not trigger us.”

That was how it started. That’s how people started to leave. Cutting out people is already hard. Having people you want to hold on to refuse to stop. That was harder.

“Why do people even like to talk about it so much?”

“People like talking about a lot of things in gross ways, Zayn.”

* * *

Zayn was sick again. Everyone kept leaving him, and no one cared about him. No one. And he couldn’t talk to anyone, really. Talking to Nel worked sometimes, and he was trusting her more, but he couldn’t tell her everything. He couldn’t talk to Louis about any of the stuff that was happening with him and the break up. He couldn’t talk to Louis about much, actually. It wasn’t the fault of either of them. He couldn’t talk to Niall all the time. He couldn’t talk to Niall about his anxiety at all.

He didn’t feel alone. But he didn’t feel like he had someone, either. He felt like he was in limbo. Like he could whisper secrets for certain people to hear, but never scream it all out, and never fully tell the secret. Only a tiny piece of it. It was the only way he could keep himself whole. It was the only way he could really trust people with himself; not trusting them at all.

* * *

“I would just like it very much if people would stop being shitty to me.” he was still facing the ceiling

“Am I being shitty to you?”

“No, but you’re different, and you’re not someone who needs to stop. I need other people to stop.”

Nel was a release, and Nel was a vessel, and Nel was so much, and everyone else was so little.

**  
_And I’m so small, and thin, and transparent, and fragile_ he thought.**


	5. Chapter 5

“Nel, the internet says it should take half the time you were together to get over a breakup.” Zayn knew he couldn’t wait that long

“Well, it’s different for everyone, especially if you don’t feel like you’ve fully gotten any closure.”  
“I have closure.”

“You still seem to be pretty upset about some things.”

“But I have closure.”

* * *

So there as a break between the next show, about one month, and Zayn was relieved, because he didn’t have to do anything and he wasn’t on his meds yet, but he knew that being able to rest would make him feel better.

He’d spend two weeks just relaxing and another two weeks stressed out of his mind, because he had to be around people who made him nervous, label execs coming to see how well they were doing and how well he was doing, but for now he could rest.

He felt a pain in his lower abdomen. It’d been there for months. He didn’t know if it went away, and then came back, or if it just never fully went away in the first place. He was worried, but he didn’t want to go back to the hospital just for them to tell him that nothing was wrong. He’d rather just calm down and chill for a few weeks, and hoped that it would go away.

* * *

Zayn thought that maybe the reason why he couldn’t move on was because he didn’t want to yet. He knew that a big part of him seemed to be holding out until Perrie decided to come back to him. He thought that maybe if he dedicated himself to actually getting over her, he would actually be able to. He didn’t know if that would work or not.

_I want to talk to her._

and so he did, and it went well, and he did again, and it did not.

Zayn was passive, he listened, but one thing was for sure when he was talking to her **she did not know him**. She painted him as arrogant, and unapologetic when he was sure he’d showed her his softer sides. Maybe he wasn’t soft, though, maybe he was gristle, and stone, and spikes. Maybe. But he’d never tried to be with her.

No, he wasn’t. And in all of her criticisms she never seemed to see any of them in herself. He could've been wrong, maybe he didn’t know Perrie. But the difference was that he was willing to learn her. She was perfectly fine with resting on a surface investigation, and her own judgements, and leaving it at that. It frustrated him. _What If I had acted differently?_ But he couldn’t think like that, he could only think of what he really was, and how wrong she really was.

Zayn was a burst of energy and confidence around the people he knew, but shy and quiet and reserved, and boring to a great extent.

_It’s sad when the person you want to know you best doesn’t know you at all._

* * *

Laying in his hotel bed with nothing but sunlight filtering through, and breakfast from room service sitting on his bedside table, and nothing to do, and no one to talk to, and no obligations whatsoever, Zayn felt at peace.

He also felt the most restless. No distractions. Nothing to do. Oh, he loved it, but he worried about when he’d start worrying again. Can’t even get peace from peace.

There was always going to be a future. There were always going to be things to do eventually. There would always be something for him to fuck up. He hated worrying about worrying, and he hated worrying about future worrying.

He ordered some tea from room service.

 

 _Something calming._ he thought

But how could anything be calm, right?

* * *

“I honestly think my heart’s going to stop.” Zayn was convulsing and stammered through shakes and cries. Nel couldn’t do much past pulling him closer.

“Do you know how bad this is gonna get?”

A hostage situation. A muslin hostage situation, apparently. Even if it wasn’t, that’s what everyone would say about it, anyway. Didn’t make a difference. Every time someone did something bad in the world his religion was thrown into it for comparison, or guilt, or fault. Whatever. It didn’t matter.

“Just don’t go on twitter for a while, please?”

“That’s not fair.” It wasn’t. Zayn knew it wasn’t fair. It’s not like he planned on getting on any social media before the news even broke, but it wasn’t fair, and he knew it wasn’t fair, and he needed someone to acknowledge that.

“You’re right. It’s not right. I’m sorry.”

He felt the knot in his stomach grow back. Like it had never left, like it was an old friend he kept in close contact with at all times, but one that he did not like. One that he only kept because he needed to... or like one that just wouldn’t go away no matter how much he avoided them.

* * *

Perrie was wrong, and she didn’t know him, and he’d taken what she’d said into consideration, but **she was wrong, and she didn’t know him.**

And she avoided any of his negative feelings towards her like the two of them never existed. Like him being sad wasn’t justified.

And she

she was terrible

 

and Zayn was upset.

He tried to remember all of the good times they had before she’d pulled away, look through all of the pictures he couldn’t delete off of his phone, but then he’d be reminded that every time he brought it up to her she’d crush it.

I’m don’t really have those types of feelings I’m just stupid.  
I was never this person you were mistaken.

You were never special.

 

We were never special.

Zayn didn’t know why he wanted her back. He didn’t know why he was so willing to put up with someone who didn’t know him, who didn’t care about him, who seemed to like to pretend they were nothing, who didn’t deserve him.

“Maybe I’m just lonely.”  
Nel looked up at him “Maybe you are.”

_Maybe I am._

Maybe he was lonely, and desperate and getting over a breakup was hard. Maybe it was stupid. Maybe he didn’t want to make things awkward. He felt like he’d never move on if he kept everything inside him, but he didn’t have the heart to tell it all to someone who wouldn’t care. He was scared. And if he never moved on, well, the only one hurting would be him. He felt like he could deal with that maybe.

_Maybe I am lonely._

He didn't believe it.

_Maybe I’m just weak._

He knew that was the truth. He knew that’s what it was.

* * *

Two weeks of relaxation and all Zayn could think about was the knot in his stomach and him never wanting to show his face in public again.

“Neeeeeel.”

“You know you don’t have to go anywhere today. You don’t have to do anything.” she sat and the foot of his bed with her legs crossed. Zayn was lying on his side in a bit of a relaxed fetal position.

“I should at least brush my teeth.”

“Do you want to move?”

“No.”

“Then don’t.”

“But my teeth...”

“Don’t make yourself feel bad about not being able to perform everyday tasks. It’s different for everyone, including you. You can’t brush your teeth right now. Maybe you’ll be able to brush them tomorrow, maybe later on today, but not right now. Accept it.”

And he did, and he felt a little better.

“Do I have to shower?”

“Sometimes you just can’t.”

He got up. He brushed his teeth. Somehow the realization that he didn’t have to made it easier for him to be able to. He laid back down. He fell asleep. He didn’t have anything to do. He didn’t feel the knot in his tummy. He didn’t know if it was still there, but he knew it was gone for now.

* * *

“Religion is racialized, you know.” Nel was stroking his back after he’d had a panic attack.

“I know. Knowing that it’s racism doesn’t make it feel any better, though.”

She kissed his forehead.

* * *

“Nel, how long does it take to get over a breakup?”

“It’s different for everyone.”

“The internet says take half the time you two have been together. That means I’ve got about a month left to be okay?”

“Maybe. Don’t put yourself on a calendar.”

He felt bad. He should be over someone who is bad for him, He was frustrated with himself.

Zayn knew he wouldn’t be over her by the end of that time.

“How long?”  
“As long as you need.”  
“How long before I stop feeling like I’m pathetic for not being over her?”  
  


The knot was still in his tummy.

**“Oh, Zayn...”**


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think I change the tense in this chapter???? idk...  
> Sad holiday chapter sorrz my b...

“What do you do when the thing making you feel the most terrible also makes you feel guilty.”

Zayn’s eyes were slightly watering, but he didn’t feel like he would immediately begin to cry. He felt like if he did it’d be calm, just a few tears rolling down his face and his emotions numb, and thick like he maybe wasn’t really as sad as they were making him look.

Penelope looked up at him from her book, his words came suddenly after silently watching her read for hours with a blank and solid face.

“Like it’s the cause and the cure... but not on some sweet, cutesy, SWV shit... on something else like... being closer to or farther from the thing won’t bring you happiness... you’re never gonna be happy either way.”

“It’s okay if you can’t talk about it.”

“I know... ‘salmost Christmas.”

“I know.”

“I don’t want to go home.”

“That’s okay.”

Zayn leaned back on the bed and let out a deep breath

“Every day that I wake up... I just feel like crying... but I can’t cry every day... at some point you’ve got to just say... I’m done, right? You’ve just got to decide one day that you don’t want to cry anymore, cause if you do, you’ll never stop.”

“Things don’t always work that way. Sometimes we feel like we don’t have to cry about something for a long time... and then sometimes we feel like we need to... all out of the blue.”

It wasn’t out of the blue. Zayn knew what it was.

“I’m never going to be happy now, am I?”

* * *

Zayn woke up in a cold sweat. Only a little breathless, but calm. Nightmares didn’t seem to phase him anymore. They scared him, sure, but he didn’t get alarmed when he woke up. He just recorded the dream in the journal on his phone and went about his day.

* * *

“Do you want me to read anything in the journal?” Nel was perusing through his phone, but he knew she’d never open anything personal without his permission.

“...no. Not now, no.”

she skipped along to play a game.

_At least she never tries to make me talk about things._

_But maybe I need to._

* * *

Zayn never felt safe when he was back home. He always felt like his biggest trigger could pop up any moment and punch him in the gut and he’d be paralyzed. Caught in front of his sisters trembling, and crying, and small, and his mum not understanding and his dad confused.

So, he stayed kind of far... in a hotel. Away from it all. Promising to visit on Christmas, but maybe.. maybe he couldn’t. He didn’t know. He didn’t like feeling like he didn’t have any control over being triggered... but for the most part he didn’t.

* * *

Using Zayn as leverage to make someone feel bad was not something that Zayn liked

Using Zayn as leverage to make someone feel bad in line with using the biggest trigger Zayn has was not something he could take.

It was three days before a holiday he that he grew up meaning only to exchange presents, not the what it might’ve meant to everyone else. Important... fun, sure. But he couldn’t get excited. He couldn’t do anything.

“If you can’t hurt them without hurting me, then why risk it?”

Why risk it. While I’m in the room. While I can’t do anything about it.

“Why risk it?”

He left in a hurry. Returning to his hotel room with a frown on his face and Nel flipping through the channels in the presidential suite.

He plopped down on the bed and buried his face into one of the extra-fluffy pillows. Nel rubbed his back, and leaned on him. His breathing was staggered, but he felt like... like if he cried it wouldn’t be dramatic... it’d just be the same old tears he’d always been crying. He’d never get over it. He’d never be okay.

“I’m never going to be able to be happy am I?”

Nel didn’t say anything. She just tried to pull herself in tighter to him. He wished she had all of the answers sometimes.

* * *

Nel looked pretty when she was off balance, and a little embarrassed, clinging to Zayn’s hands tightly as she moved her legs, and wobbled.

“Come on, Nel, it’s not that hard.” Zayn said, laughing.

“Black girls don’t ice skate! We rollerskate... inside... with cute leg warmers and fun music. DIdn’t you watch Roll Bounce?”

“Oh, yes, any movie with Bow Wow is always a classic, come on.”

The rink was inside, of course, Zayn couldn’t handle the press getting a view of him with Nel and thinking they were together. He didn’t know if he’d be hurt or embarrassed to have to explain to them that no, she’s his therapist, or annoyed or what but.. he didn’t want to deal with it.

Nel hated any bit of cold, and so did he, but he figured that them being cramped up in a hotel room which... in retrospect wasn’t small at all, might subject them to a little cabin fever... and he didn’t want to have to deal with anymore stress.

“Why are we doing this on Christmas Eve shouldn’t we be wrapping presents?”

“No way you’re not getting off that easily.”

Zayn grabbed her waist and held her from behind, slowly pushing her and guiding her along. She took a wrong step and they stumbled, ending up on the ice with her on top of him.

“I told you I couldn’t do this.” she laughed

“That’s part of the learning process!”

He felt light. Teaching Nel how to ice skate, and having her constantly fall on him like a little duck who hadn’t quite learned how to swim yet.

“Stop laughing at my torture.” She shoved him when they found themselves sitting on the ice again.

“I can’t help it you’re so cute.” Zayn let out through chuckles.

He was happy there in that moment with his friend. With Nel... his best friend.

He stood up and brushed his pants off, and offered her his hand. She took it, and he pulled her up.

“Wanna try going around the rink? Just ooooooone more time please?” His eyes were bright and he was excited. “I mean you are getting better, I promise.”

Nel rolled her eyes at him. “Sure. Let’s go.”

Nel grabbed his shoulders and they slowly made one more full circle around the rink.

“Can we go now?”

“Sure but I think we should start these lessons up again once Christmas is over.”

She lightly shoved him when they got on solid ground.

“This was fun, but I just want to get back to the warmth. You’re making me tea when we get back.”

* * *

Zayn remembered Nel's face when he first let her read his dream journal. It was over now. It was. She knew he was a lost cause. She knew she could never really help him, he could see it in her eyes. She held him close and stroked his hair, and cried and little, and Zayn felt like maybe he could share some of her warmth, and she could share some of his sadness. Then, maybe being too much of one in each other's presence wouldn't seem so bad.

Zayn clenched his jaw while laying his head in her lap when she calmed down, still idly playing his in hair. 

_Or maybe I could just get rid of the sadness on my own._

* * *

 

Zayn stayed with his family late Christmas night. Well, not late, but considering he’d been there since 6am to open presents early, staying until around 9 was pretty late. His mom doted on him all day, and while he liked it he also wished she would stop being so overbearing. It was already noticeable that something was up with him since he wasn’t staying home, her giving him so much attention was making it worse.

He left his family with kisses, and thin, thin tears clinging to his eyes, careful not to fall before he left out of the house... careful not to cause a scene.

Nel was laying on the bed facing the door when he got back. She was staring blankly at it, he knew she wasn’t thinking about anything in particular. He felt bad. He slid in next to her on the bed.

“Sorry for keeping you from your family.”

She smiled “We’re family. They see me a lot... they’ll be okay.”

“Yea, but--”

“It’s fine, really.”

She hopped up from the bed and stole and candy cane off the tree they’d decorated. Nel celebrated Christmas... she _really_ celebrated... every part of it, unlike him. He knew the tree meant a lot to her if she’d had to sit in a hotel room for the entire holiday season. It didn’t hurt him to give her a little of that... especially since he knew he was taking her away from her family.

* * *

They sat in the room alone on New Year’s Eve watching other artists perform and taking silly pictures and telling stories.

Nel made sure that they had some quiet time to collect their thoughts and Zayn made sure that they had egg nog, because he knew Nel loved it.

They ordered snacks from room service and played loud music and danced and Zayn could’ve sworn that with anyone else he would’ve just been sad... hewould've felt pathetic and sorry for himself that he had to stay here, hidden, on own of the biggest party nights of the year. But with Nel it felt like maybe he was getting better.

They counted down the New Year and on the 8th second Nel kissed him on the cheek until exactly 12:00:00 am, and he smiled

At 12:01:00 am he had hot tears running down his face in remembrance of the terrible year he’d just went through... in anticipation of how much worse it might even get.

Nel hugged him. Sometimes he really did wish she had all of the answers.

* * *

“If she knew it was going to trigger me then why risk it?”

“She didn’t know, Zayn.”

“...but why even bring me up, anyway.”

“I know. That doesn’t make it okay... she didn’t know it would trigger you, but that doesn’t make it okay.”

Nel moved closer, putting her book to the side, and cupping his face in her hands. He felt like if he was going to be sad about anything, it’d be about how concerned Nel was for him. About how he knew she just wanted him to feel better and he couldn’t.

“No matter what I do. If I go near the thing I’m sad, and if I stay away I’m sad...”

“I know.”

He felt like he couldn’t really talk about anything. Like he was a burden, and whenever he tried to talk about it he locked up and couldn’t move and his he got a giant painful lump in his throat. He couldn’t talk about it. Talking might’ve meant crying... especially now.

“I’m never going to be happy now, am I?”

**  
He pulled her closer and started to cry, and it wasn’t Nel he was sad for when all of the tears were rushing out. It wasn’t Nel he was dramatically clinging to her for, with no control over what he was really doing.**

**It was him.**


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Robin Williams/suicide mention. Be careful if you're reading this please!

“I’m not going to be okay by then.”

 

January 12 was staring Zayn in the face. It had been staring him in the face since New Year’s Day.

“I’ve got two weeks to be okay and I know I’m not going to be... Birthdays are supposed to be happy... That’s why they sing happy birthday, Nel.”

“Not everything happens the way we think it’s supposed to, Zayn.”

Zayn wanted to forget his birthday. He wanted it to be postponed until he felt better, but time doesn’t work that way.

 

* * *

 

"Do you think it could be that you’re still healing from the breakup?"

 

Zayn felt a surge of pain go through his chest. He was still sad about it, maybe... but that wasn’t what this was.”

“No... I’m just... a sad kid... I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay to be a sad kid.” Nel held Zayn’s legs on her lap while she looked forward. She tapped his knees "Sad kids are accepted here."

 He smiled a little, and it faded quickly.

Even when he got a little hope, he felt it slip... everything was always taken away so quickly. Even when he rested he felt himself go heavy and stiff with anxiety.

* * *

 

Two ignored messages, and they were just silly texts. Zayn didn’t really understand how someone could care so much for him and then just completely stop.

Feel nothing for him anymore.

 

Perrie didn’t want to be friends she was just ignoring him now... and it’s not like he texted her every day or even every week, there was no schedule. She just didn’t care.

 

“Maybe she’s busy.”  
“If I was busy and wanted to talk to her, I’d make time. No one is ever really busy, and when they are they apologize for it... if they care.”

“People show things differently.”

“You don’t understand, and you’re not going to win this. I know her. She’s ignoring me.”

“Don’t stalk her twitter.” Nel snatched his phone.

“I’m not trying to. I was fine for a while but now it’s like... compulsive.”

“What are you looking for? Some kind of secret message of her saying she still loves you?”

“Maybe...”

“She doesn’t.”

 

 _She doesn’t._ He thought

 

* * *

 

“My birthday is so soon... it’s coming up so quickly...”

 

Zayn wasn’t talking to anyone. Speaking out loud to himself while laying on his back and looking up at the ceiling in his bed.

“So soon....”

 

He curled over into a ball and cried.

 

* * *

 

 

So, of course he cancelled his plans. Of course he couldn’t go. Of course he couldn’t. He was too sad and too busy trying to not be sad.

 

And of course his friends still wanted him to come out to cheer him up. Zayn sneered at that sentiment.

 _Cheer me up._ He thought

_I can’t be cheered up and even if I could it wouldn’t be by going out to some high-scene club no doubt crawling with paps and other famous people.... pretending to smile for everyone just reminds me of how fucked up I really am._

 

“Why do they insist on trying to make me do things when I can’t do anything? Can’t they see that I can’t do anything?” Zayn threw his phone across the room.

“They’re trying to help you.”

“I CAN’T BE HELPED.” Zayn yelled. “You can’t help me. No amount of therapy is going to help me.... What makes them think they can help me?”

“Tell them that.”

Zayn rolled his eyes. “Bye, Nel.” he picked up his phone, face now shattered, and stormed out of the room.

 

_Therapy isn’t going to help me._

 

* * *

 

“It’s been months and I was fine for a while, and I should be fine now.”

“Sometimes, when we’re experiencing other things.... all the anxiety comes in, and it shows up bigger than it used to be.” Nel leaned her head on his shoulder. “and it’s persistent as fuck, but you can get through it.”

“I don’t think I ever will, Nel.... I don’t think I’m going to be okay one day.... I’m not.”

“You’ll be okay, Zayn.”

“I won’t be.”

 

* * *

 

 

Zayn blocked Perrie from his twitter on impulse. She had ignored him for too long, and he felt terrible, and he just kept on thinking about it. So, he blocked her.

 

_No more unnecessary anxiety._

 

He felt like he’d made a big step forward, but he still didn’t feel free.

 

He didn’t feel anxious about her anymore... he just felt kind of sad.

 

_Pathetic._

 

* * *

 

Someone told Zayn they’d get him something for his birthday, and he tried his best not to let it get to him.

 

He didn’t really want anything for his birthday if he couldn’t enjoy it. He wished he could erase it. He knew everyone would be tweeting him and texting him, and sending him messages about how happy they were that it was his birthday and how excited they were for him, and how happy they were that he was even alive. Thanking his mum and dad that they brought him on this earth in the first place.

 

He couldn’t take it. He couldn’t take the happiness... he couldn’t deal with the reality of it.

 

If anyone was happy for him, or brought it up, or wanted to do anything nice for him he’d only get sadder. How is it fair that everyone could enjoy his birthday, but him? How is it fair that everyone could be happy about it but he could be so fucked up?

 

“How, Nel? I’m supposed to be happy because it’s my birthday. I’m supposed to be happy because I was born. All my life I never questioned that meaningless celebration... all I did was come out of a womb! It’s pointless. How is that supposed to make me happy? Knowing I was born? How is that enough to make so many other people happy and excited but not me? Why am I dreading my birthday?”

 

“I know it’s not fair, Zayn, but-”

 

“NO. You’re right! No buts, it’s not fair! It’s not fair and I hate feeling like this. I hate... being so sad all the time and there’s nothing I can do..... the pain in my side is gone which I know means there’s some kind of progress but I am still... so sad and scared all of the time.”

 

“I know, Zayn, and it’ll get better.”

 

“Robin Williams offed himself and he was old and successful and people loved him... and he wasn’t okay. What makes you think I can be okay?

Nel looked up at him silently and wiped the tears rolling down his face “I would never let that happen to you.”

“It’s already happened, Nel, and there’s nothing you can do about it.”

Nel’s face was sympathetic. She knew there was nothing she could say to make him feel better. So, she just pulled him into her and wrapped herself around him.

“I just want to be excited for my birthday.” Zayn cried “I’ve never not been excited for my birthday.”

 

But he played it off. He smiled. He acted excited for the presents for the birthday that he wasn’t even excited about. The birthday he wished wouldn’t come. The birthday he wished would wait just a few more months because maybe by then he’d be okay.

 

* * *

  _I’m never going to be okay._

_I’m really not._

* * *

 

 

Zayn didn’t know how to tell Waliyha that he wanted to try meds without it sounding like he just wanted to experiment with drugs. He didn’t know how to tell Safaa that he needed help and make her understand that he wasn’t okay when he didn’t look sick. He didn’t know how to tell Doniyah that he was sick without her worrying.... he really didn’t want her to worry.

 

_I don’t know how to talk to anyone about this... anyone other than Nel._

 

But he didn’t think it would work that way. His family would find out... everyone would find out, and everyone would know how bad he was or they’d think he was just some trouble-making brown kid who just wanted to get his hands on some drugs.

 

Maybe he felt that way about himself, too. Maybe he was just looking for the easy way out.

 

_But it’s not the easy way out._

 

He knew it wasn’t. Why did it feel like it was?

 

 

* * *

 

 

“Stop looking at her twitter, Zayn. Please?” Nel sounded tired to him.

 

Zayn felt a little pain in his stomach remembering when they were happy.

He didn’t mean to, really. He went to sleep thinking about cheesecake and somehow had a dream about her. Which made no sense to him. Perrie liked cheesecake, but there were no significant Perrie + Cheesecake memories sitting around in his head.

 

He woke up feeling like maybe they could be happy again one day. Hence, the twitter stalking.

 

“I can’t help it. I had a dream about her.”

“I honestly want to fight this girl.”

“Don’t say that.”

“No, I do. I want to fight her. She ended things wrong with you... she didn’t do it right, and now you’re like this.. and you’re a little angry, and you’ve probably got more things to say to her, but you know it won’t matter...”

“I know...”

“Zayn, it doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter how Perrie feels about you. It doesn’t. What matters is how you feel and what you care about. You’re not terrible for making mistakes while you two were together, you just made mistakes... and there may be things left unsaid by you, but it doesn’t matter. And it's not that it doesn’t matter because Perrie doesn’t care anymore. It doesn’t matter, because it’s over. It doesn’t matter, because focusing on what you could’ve said or should’ve said or how you could’ve changed things won’t change anything... ever. It doesn’t matter, because you’re going to move on. It may not feel like it now, but you will. And when you do, trust me, it really won’t matter... but give yourself sometime... okay?”

 

He hugged her “Okay.”

 

“And stop stalking her twitter. There is never going to be anything on there that pertains to you. And if it ever does, you will never know, because she’ll never admit it publicly.”

 

“I know... it’s just hard.”

“I know, but how about instead of that every time you want to go look at her twitter you... sing a song... or you tell me to sing a song... my terrible vocals will definitely keep you distracted for at least three minutes.”

 

“I will try.”

“I appreciate the effort.”

 

* * *

 

_I’m always hurting about something_

_and then I’m always hurting about nothing... just hurting... like it’s the only thing that I know how to do._

 

* * *

 

Zayn missed Liam. The parts of Liam that were fun... before all of their conversations turned stiff and hard and hurtful. He missed the memories.

 

But Liam didn’t miss Zayn.

 

People were always leaving.

 

Zayn missed Liam.

 

He remembered what Nel told him about how when anxiety is bad everything comes out in full force, but he didn’t think it was that.

 

He’d missed Liam for a while, honestly. Seeing things that he knew would make him laugh and wanted to share with him. Looking back on all their jokes and tweets and texts.... he missed Liam.

 

Liam didn’t miss him. Liam was glad he was gone.

 

* * *

 

January 12, 2015

Midnight and the texts started flying in. Zayn put his phone on silent, and tried to turn over to get some sleep. Nel was in bed with him, she promised to stay with him for as long as he needed her.... which seemed to be always now.

"I'm 22 now."

"Yes, and soon you'll be 52, but you'll still look so damn good." Nel smiled at him. He offered a weak smile back.

 

“Eventually I’m going to have to look at my phone. Eventually I’ll have to tweet something.”

“I’ll look at your phone for you. I’ll delete all of the texts, and voicemails. I’ll text your family back for you, I’ll tweet a big thank you for you. Just get some sleep.”

 

He moved over closer to her and tried to rest, but he felt like his birthday was still here, and he still wasn’t excited.

 

Nel kissed the top of his head. “I’ll take care of you. I promise.”

 

He believed her, he really did, but he knew she could only take care of him as much as she could... and he didn’t think that was enough anymore.

 

His friends came by early. They were excited and they had presents and they yelled with bright smiling faces.

 

When Zayn opened the door for them to let them, and saw them..... how happy they were about a stupid fucking birthday.... he cried.

 

He played it off like he was excited, but he cried, because he still wasn’t happy. He wasn't happy on his own birthday and his friends were happy. He wanted to be excited and feel like he really had something to celebrate, but there wasn't anything. There was only sadness and fake smiles, and friends staring in his face trying to cheer him up.

 

He climbed into bed with Nel after they left. She could tell he was exhausted.

 

“Do you want to try to get some rest?”

“Do you think that’ll help?”

“It might.”

 

It wouldn’t help. Zayn wasn’t okay by his birthday... but he’d known he wouldn’t be. Knowing that didn't make it hurt any less, though.

 

He crawled into Nel’s lap. “It’s not fair, Nel.”

“I know, Zayn.”

“Why can’t I be happy? On my birthday? It’s my birthday.”

“...not everything happens the way we think it’s supposed to, Zayn...”

 

He cried some more.

 

_I’m always crying now._

_Not everything happens the way we think it's supposed to... and I'm crying on my birthday... and not everything happens the way we think it's supposed to._  He thought.

He closed his eyes.


End file.
